Chapter 10: In Their Dreams


Myles' home, Columbia Heights

Friday, January 14, 2005

8 p.m.

The evening was quiet; no case in the works, except the sting on the jewelry counterfeiters, which was on hold until Monday, when Myles would finally meet up with the head of the organization. Tara and Elizabeth had planned a "movie night"— girls only, popcorn, chick-flicks and pedicures— with Sue and Lucy. Jack and Bobby were at a hockey game, and D was home with his family.

Myles leaned back in the leather chair at his desk and stretched a bit. The book Elizabeth had recommended for his ASL study was open in front of him, and he let the new signs run through his mind a few times until he felt he knew them. Bad enough I've let nearly three years go by without trying to meet Sue at least halfway… I won't make the same mistake with Connie.

He knew Elizabeth and her sister were close, and he liked the intelligent, somewhat brash redhead. He laughed to himself as he remembered the conversation at the airport in Boston; he'd forgotten to ask Elizabeth if Connie really had taken a piece of the silver tea service and swatted her mother with it. He wouldn't put it past her.

Now he stood, and took a few minutes to practice the new signs by incorporating them into sentences he already knew. Then he could practice them with Elizabeth; usage was the key to learning any language well, but with American Sign Language it was essential. Too much trouble could be had by the slightest inaccuracy… as Bobby discovered at Thanksgiving. The team still teased the Aussie about that from time to time. Not wanting to end up in the same boat, Myles made sure he practiced with Elizabeth first— if he was going to get teased, he'd prefer it be one-on-one.

"You know what they say about talking to yourself."

Myles turned to find Sam lounging in the doorway. "When did you sneak in?" the agent asked with a raised brow. "I didn't even hear the door open."

His twin smiled mysteriously. "How do you know I haven't been here the whole time?"

"Because, ok or not, you've never been that quiet for that long in your entire life," Myles laughed. "You hungry?"

"Could eat." Sam followed him out into the kitchen. "Quiet around here tonight. Got a few minutes?"

"More than a few." Myles pulled sandwich makings out of the refrigerator, along with a couple of bottles of water. He then grabbed a couple of plates from the cupboard and handed one to Sam. "Something on your mind?"

Sam perched on one of the stools, talking as he put together what had become family legend as the "Sam Stack." "Actually, I need a little insight into one of your co-workers."

Myles grinned. "And which co-worker would that be, as if I couldn't guess?"

"Ok, ok," Sam laughed in return. "Look, Valentine's Day is in like, a month, and I was sort of thinking it would be a good time to maybe pop the question to Tara."

"What question?"

Sam threw a pickle chip at his twin. "You're in too good a mood tonight."

"No such thing," Myles replied. "So, you're really going to propose. That's great."

"Yeah, but I want to really do it up right." Sam paused in his construction project and leaned his chin in his hand. "Something that will be the stuff of her dreams. I mean, it'd be way easy to just go for broke and spend a fortune on everything I can think of, but I'd rather do something that speaks to her, uniquely. Any ideas?"

"Hmm." Myles thought about that for a minute. "She and I don't generally get into conversations of this nature, Sam. You'd be better off asking Elizabeth, or Sue or Lucy."

"How'd you know what you were going to do with Liz?" He was back at building his sandwich again.

Myles brought his own plate around to the other kitchen stool and sat down. "Actually, that was easy. I knew I wanted to do as much as I could to erase the nightmare we'd been through. That was a re-creation of the dream I kept having; turning it into something romantic and happy seemed the best way to… take the last step I needed, in more ways than one. Otherwise, I was afraid I was going to have to dig up my rosebushes."

Sam laughed. "Heaven forbid."

"It would have been easy enough to just take her out to dinner, or ask while we were walking somewhere, or any number of traditional settings. But making it personal, for both of us, I think made it that much more special."

"That's what I want to do for Tara." Sam perched a slice of bread atop a tall, rather wobbly, sandwich. "Hey, speaking of the stuff of dreams, have you given any thought to what you want to do for your honeymoon? I mean, that is pretty much the groom's sole contribution to the wedding plans, right?"

Myles laughed. "Not if my bride-to-be has her way. I've toyed with a few ideas, but nothing's jumped out at me."

"Well," Sam replied, trying to decide the best angle from which to attack his sandwich, "start with this: pretend for a minute that the sky's the limit. Yes, I know that rhymed, sue me. What would be your dream for it?"

Myles suddenly eyed him warily. "Why?"

"No special reason," Sam said smoothly. "Just humor me. If you could plan the honeymoon of her, and your, dreams, what would it be?"


&
For the sheer fun of it, Myles had taken Sam at his word and started spinning out the plans he'd make if he had unlimited resources for a honeymoon. It would help him come up with something similar within his price range later. He'd gotten lost in it for about an hour, with Sam pressing him for details and generally egging him on.

"…and then maybe we'd—" A flash of white in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and he turned to find Sam smoothing out a napkin in front of him. Another one was set just above it, with Sam's bold handwriting all over it. "What are you doing?" Myles asked. "Taking notes?"

"Yeah." Sam looked like he'd just gotten caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Why?"

"Oh, no special reason."

Myles advanced on his twin, a suspicious and slightly panicked look in his eye. "Sam… what are you cooking up in that brain of yours? Because if it's what I think it is…"

"And if it is?" Sam replied easily, leaning back against the counter. "What good is my bank account if I can't use it for other people's dreams as well as my own? Now, where were we…?" He glanced back down at his notes.

Myles stared at Sam as if he'd completely relapsed. "You're not kidding, are you? Sam, this is… it's too much. I am not going to let you—"

"Bro, I already thought about it, and I can't think of anything else I'd rather do for you guys for a wedding present. So what's next?"

Myles wasn't quite ready to surrender just yet. "Sam, no, I—"

"Look." Sam put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "How often do you plan on getting married?"

Myles blinked. "Just the once, obviously."

The smile that lit Sam's face melted whatever further protest his twin would have made. "Then shut up and keep dreaming."


&
Tara's Apartment, near Glover Park

Friday, 10 pm

"I don't know why I bothered to do this," Elizabeth said with a smile. "It's not like anyone's going to see them in January."

Sue and Lucy had gone home; they had early plans tomorrow. The psychologist was seated on the floor, putting a coat of clear polish on her toenails so "Autumn Splendor" would last more than two days.

"You never know," Tara replied impishly. "We could have a warm spell." She was stretched out on her sofa, absently picking at a bowl of popcorn. She popped a handful into her mouth. "Tha', an' Myles shoul' like it."

Elizabeth laughed. "Like he notices. I don't think his eyes have ever made it clear down to my feet. Still, I suppose it's some form of secret feminine power to know that if the opportunity arises, even my toes are stunning."

A giggle escaped Tara as she stood and wandered over to her desk. "You know, if it's secret feminine power you want, I have an idea." She pulled a sheet of body jewel designs out of a drawer and waved them at Elizabeth. "Walk on the wild side. Heart, star, flower, sun; nothing too extreme."

"You're kidding." The psychologist's eyes were wide. "Me?"

"What?" Tara replied, her expression darkening a little. "It's beneath the rules of high-society? Forgive me."

The tone of her friend's voice caused Elizabeth to draw back in surprise. "I didn't say that, Tara. I just… it's just not something I had ever considered. Admittedly, my mother would have a heart attack if she ever found out, but I don't care about that. Here." She held out her hand for the designs. "Let me take a look, and get up my nerve while you tell me what brought all this on."

Tara walked over and sat down on the sofa, handing the stiff paper sheet to the psychologist. "I know you say it's not important, Liz, but I've seen you cringe at the mention of your mother and I watch you play the same game the rest of them do. It may not be important for the same reasons as the rest of them, but it does matter to you. And to Myles, and probably to Sam as well. I don't know how to fit into that world, never will, and it scares me to death to think that I could mess it up for Sam. He's come so far, made so much progress back to his family, to the life he was born to…"

"And the fact that you've been at his side the entire way back should tell you something. Here, let's try the small heart. I'll work my way up. What do you think— shoulder, or ankle?" She held out the sheet.

"Shoulder," Tara replied after a moment's thought. "You have nice shoulders. And it seems more daring."

"Daring is good, right?" Elizabeth laughed at the expression on Tara's face. "Hey, give me a break; I'm trying, here. You do realize that I'm going to have to explain this to Myles the next time I wear something with spaghetti straps. You think he'll recover from the shock?"

"Oh, a little revolution now and then is a good thing." Tara said solemnly, peeling the backing off the tiny design. "It'll be fun to watch him stagger around at work, though."

"You're enjoying this just a bit too much, but I love it," the psychologist laughed again. "Here we are, doing something totally off-the-wall and positively adolescent, and you're taking it as seriously as if there was a terrorist attack to be thwarted by it. You have no idea how much your friendship adds to my life, Tara Williams. It'll be even more fun when we're sisters-in-law."

"Here, turn around so your back's to me, and move your shirt so I can put this on." Tara waited while her friend did so, then asked quietly. "You really think he's going to propose? I mean…"

"Why wouldn't he?" Elizabeth replied. "After what happened two weeks ago, what makes you think he's going to run away now?" Her brows went up as a thought occurred, and she turned around as far as she could without moving her shoulders. "Lori really got to you, didn't she?"

Tara shrugged as she pressed the jewels onto her friend's soft skin. "No. Well, maybe. A little." Her breath came out in a rush. "Okay, yes. A lot. I mean, I grew up trying to keep up with my brothers, playing baseball in a sandlot, and doing odd jobs to pay for my ballet lessons. It's a completely different world, Liz. I'm not exactly wired to play 'lady of the manor,' or whatever you call it."

"And just because of that you think that Sam would turn around and choose someone like Lori over you? Tara, your world isn't so different from the one Sam grew up in. You were up there at Christmas. The sandlot simply has an ocean behind it. His family is one of the most down-to-earth groups I've ever met, in their tax bracket."

"But that's just it, Liz. That tax bracket makes a difference, because they can't imagine having to work that hard for something they wanted, just like I can't imagine having it handed to me with the snap of a checkbook—"

"This doesn't have a thing to do with marrying 'above your station,' does it, Tara? Not really. Is that heart in place?" When Tara nodded, Elizabeth turned around to face her. "You're more afraid that Lori's right about Sam not having 'played the field;' that he'll marry you and then decide he's missed out on all the society debutantes. Aren't you?"

"I—" Tara started to protest, then decided it was useless. "What do I have to offer him, anyway? I mean, he's a multi-millionaire with the family connections to take him anywhere. He'll be bored senseless inside of a month."

"And the fact that he's been with you for more than nine months already is irrelevant? Come on, Tara. If Sam were going to get bored, he'd be there by now." The psychologist turned her head to try to see the result of their handiwork. "And you have plenty to offer."

"Right. I can throw a hell of a tailgate party, but a luncheon for a bunch of senators' wives? Or a Christmas party where three-quarters of the guests have pedigrees longer than Secretariat?" Tara swiped at the tears starting to spill over. "It's not me, Liz. It's just not who I am, and I'll never be able to do it."

"No, it's not who you are." Elizabeth grasped her friend's hands and focused an intense gaze on her. "And it's not who he fell in love with. For heaven's sake, Tara, you're not marrying Nelson Rockefeller. Sam doesn't expect all that from you. You're sitting here putting yourself down over something that doesn't exist. He loves you— the down-to-earth, sweet cyber-goddess who packs a 9mm and beats him regularly at MarioKart. You let him be who he is, Tara; you don't label him with expectations. Why would he even want to do that to you?"

She slid her shirt off her shoulder and pointed to the tiny heart glittering there. "Besides, if you can get me to wear one of these— and I actually like it, by the way— then you think I'd let you endure a ladies' luncheon all alone? No way, amiga. I'll make sure the silver is all in the right place."

Tara laughed. "Just get me able to converse about something besides computers and the Redskins, and we'll get somewhere."

"As a matter of fact, Senator Kersting's wife is a huge 'Skins fan, and she'd be more than happy to monopolize the conversation with you." Elizabeth squeezed her friend's hands. "You don't have to do all that society stuff; you can do anything you want to. Quit the Bureau and stay home if you want, but he'd buy you the Bureau if you asked him to." She laughed. "Then you can be Randy's boss."

A lethal grin spread over Tara's face. "Ooh, I like that idea."

Now Elizabeth bored the point home. "Tara, I know people who haven't a shred of savings to their name who are perfectly happy, and people who have Sam's net worth and beyond who are miserable. I also know people like Sam and Myles and their family who happen to be in a higher tax bracket than most and don't let it affect what's really important in life. Look, have you never wondered what Myles is doing in a government-salary job when he could be raking in a Fortune-500 motherlode like Brad and James?"

"I—" Tara stopped and thought about that for a minute. "I guess. Especially when he gets griping about something. I've never met anyone who could raise ranting to an art form like he can. It does seem…strange, given the opportunities I'm sure he had growing up."

"He does it because it matters to him. There's purpose in it for him, a noble purpose that you all share. He could care less about the financial wheeling and dealing; he knows it because it's practical to have a good financial foundation, but it's not fun for him like it is for his brothers. Even Sam; have you ever watched him on the phone when he's working a deal?"

"Yeah." The petite agent laughed. "It's better than his video games. And it's not just about the money for him; I know that. I've seen him take risks on business ventures simply because he can help someone out who has an idea he likes. Doesn't always work out, but I don't think I've ever heard him complain."

"That's right," Elizabeth replied. "There's a freedom in being able to do that. And that's what drives Sam, now that he's not hiding anymore. That's his purpose. He's a philanthropist in the truest sense of the word; he does because he wants to. That it often brings him a tidy little profit is a nice sidebar, but it's not the motive for him. And right now, he wants to make you happy, for the rest of his life. All you have to do is figure out what's 'fun' for you, and he'll go along or make it happen for you."

Tara smiled. "No kidding. I already feel like a princess. Can I be a princess and a 'spy' at the same time?"

"You can be anything you want to, kiddo."

"Cool." Tara laid back on the couch again, grinning broadly. "Then I want a hidden camera in my tiara."


&
Elizabeth was just pulling into her driveway when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, then smiled as she answered. "Hey, Sam? You making sure I'm home by curfew?"

He laughed. "Something like that. How was the girls' night?"

"You mean, did Tara let slip any hints that would give you ideas as to how to pop the question?" She laughed softly at the stunned silence on the other end of the line.

"How do you do that?"

She laughed again as she glanced across the street and saw him in the front window. "I called Myles on my way home, and he told me you'd been driving him crazy with questions. Or, I'm psychic. Take your pick."

He shook his head at her, grinning. "So, did she?"

The psychologist smiled. "Tell you what… Monday night, while our significant others are taking down that jewelry ring, you and I will sit down and plan out the proposal of her dreams."

"You're on. 'Night, Liz."